expectedly at her bridle. She gave a start at his appearance but had the good sense to remain silent as he led her horse along the narrow path beside the river bank. Crunch! splash! crunch! they went along. She shivered miserably as the sodden folds of her wet cape swung against her knee. Were they never going to stop!
At last the Indian came to a halt and pointed out into the darkness.
"Boat out there!" he announced.
But strain her eyes as she might Mehitable could see nothing. Only the lapping of water, the sighing of the wind could be heard.
"Art sure this be the place?" asked the girl, a little peevishly. Then she started. For the Indian, without replying, had disappeared into the dense shadows of some underbrush. Only a moment passed and he was back.
"Boat out there," he repeated. And this time there was certainty in his voice. "I go—swim," he continued simply.
Before Mehitable could protest, then, he was gone once more and she was left to her own dismal thoughts. Long minutes passed. Poor Mehitable sighed wearily, yawned, shivered, yawned again. And at her second yawn a mocking voice whispered at her elbow.
"'Tis indeed a boresome way to pass ye time, mistress! Mayhap we can show ye other ways!"
Mehitable stifled a shriek and looked down. Standing beside her horse—and how he had gotten there unnoticed was more than she ever knew!—was a tall, burly man she never seen before, while behind
